After the Episode: Schemer Alone
by Shining Time Station
Summary: In wake of a tragic event, Schemee swears that he will do what he can to help his Uncle Schemer.


After the Episode: Schemer Alone

Notes: This story takes place an undetermined time in the future after this episode, but fits the theme of the Schemer Alone plot. For reasons that will become clear, I have to admit that I struggle with placing this character within the story. I foresee a timeline where this fits, but for now it has to stay as a stand alone until I can write my major story.

* * *

"Stacy! The most awful thing has just happened!"

Stacy looked up from her desk to find Midge Smoot staring her down, palms down and fingers splayed on Stacy's desk. She was slightly out of breath, giving the impression that she had ran all the way here.

"Midge Smoot! You look troubled, what's wrong?" Stacy asked, not immediately taking Midge seriously. She was always coming by with whatever gossip her ears managed to pick up.

"I couldn't say! No, I suppose I could…. No! It's too awful." Midge flip-flopped between answers several times, punctuating each with a dramatic sigh.

"Well, Midge if it's important I'd be happy to listen to you but unfortunately I'm fairly busy today." Stacy said politely, it was the truth and quite frankly she already went through this conversation several times per week.

However, now that she was looking at Midge more closely, something about her expression seemed to communicate to Stacy that this was more serious. It was the way her normally perfect hair was dishevelled. The way her eyes had a wild appearance instead of the normal glee that gossip brought.

"Midge? Is everything alright?" Stacy probed. They were alone in the station.

Midge sighed. "Is Schemer here?" She asked gravely.

Stacy rose one eyebrow. "No, he's running errands today. He usually does on Tuesdays, I'm sure he'll pop in and out though if you need to speak with him."

Midge shook her head. "No, I'm not sure if… Well… Stacy, at the flowering committee meeting today…" Midge started but was cut off by a boisterous entrance from the aforementioned man.

"Good morning Shining Time!" Schemer boomed happily as he entered the station.

"Morning Schemer." Midge and Stacy said in unison. Stacy was confused, Midge was reserved.

"Don't mind me ladies, I'm just doing my collections today." He exclaimed as he walked to his arcade, oblivious to the lukewarm welcome he had received.

Midge gestured to Billy's empty office with a point of her head as Schemer moved on. Stacy followed her lead and they shut the door and took a seat.

"What's wrong Midge?" Stacy asked fearfully. Something about this wasn't sitting right at all.

Midge took a deep sigh. "Today at the committee meeting, something happened. And I don't think that Schemer knows yet."

"What happened?" Stacy asked in a hushed voice.

"Mrs. Schemer… Well, she collapsed. She was awake but, barely. She was really out of it. We called an ambulance for her and she was taken away, but no one had been able to reach her son. So I rushed over here as fast as I could saying that I would try and find him." She looked forlorn. "But now that he's here I don't know what to say."

Stacy put a hand on Midge's shoulder. "Is she alright?" Stacy asked. She was very worried, and one of them would have to tell him very soon.

One of the Station's phones rang but went unnoticed to the two of them. If it was something important, they would leave a message.

"I'm not sure. The ambulance came as fast as it could." Midge said, getting up. "I suppose he has a right to know as soon as possible before it comes as just gossip."

"I'll tell him." Stacy volunteered.

"Would you? It would probably be more reassuring coming from you, one of his closest friends." Midge looked relieved.

Stacy nodded. "Wait here please, he might have questions."

She stepped out of the office to go find Schemer, but instead was faced with an empty station.

"Schemer?" She called out as she stepped further out into the foyer.

Turning to look at the wall of his arcade, she noticed something was out of place. The phone headpiece was swinging back and forth.

Eyes widened, she ran to the front door to see Schemer's car tearing out of the parking lot and down the street, kicking up rocks as it went.

"Oh Schemer." She murmured sadly, fearing that not all was well.

"Stacy!" A small voice hissed from one of the machines.

She stepped forward to find Mr. Conductor.

"He knows. Someone from what sounded like the hospital called. I didn't want to eavesdrop but I could tell from his face, it wasn't good."

Stacy hung up the phone sadly. "We'll find out soon enough I suppose. Oh dear, I hope she's alright." She leaned against the wall, hugging her arms into her body.

Mr. Conductor nodded in agreement. "I hope he's alright as well for that matter." He added.

* * *

Schemee had decided to walk home from school that day. He and his friends were supposed to have baseball practice, like they usually did on Tuesdays, but to their surprise the school coach was putting up a notice that formal practice was cancelled. Schemer jointly coached the team in his spare time and Billy and Stacy often helped out when possible.

"Your Uncle apparently cancelled it, Schemee. I heard it through Billy that it wouldn't be running. Neither of them will be here today." The school coach mentioned, before heading back to the school building.

Schemee was puzzled, and decided to head home as something about it felt off. His friends decided to stay to have an informal practice, despite their queries of him staying to play with them he declined and headed home. The buses were long gone but it was a gorgeous late spring day, and he lived less than ten minutes from the school. The walk felt slow and he noticed anxiety creeping in with each step. Everything was fine, his Uncle probably had a good reason to cancel practice.

But why did Billy have to tell the coach?

He rounded the wooded lot that surrounded their property and made his way up the clearing that lead to the front of their house. His Uncle was sitting on the porch step, which momentarily put him at ease to see that he was well.

However, something was amiss.

His Uncle hadn't seen him yet and his posture was peculiar. He had his feet sitting on the step below the one he was sitting on, which propped his knees up. His hands were clasped between his legs and he seemed to be staring at them intently.

It wasn't until Schemee got close that Schemer noticed him, and he focused his gaze on him. That was also the moment that Schemee noticed that something was very, very wrong. His stomach plummeted and he quizzically met his Uncle's gaze. Schemer's face seemed tense and inexpressive. His mouth was twisted slightly as if he was deep in thought. But his eyes were darkened, and pierced Schemee like a grief imbued arrow through the heart.

Schemer patted the step beside him gently, motioning for Schemee to join him. Schemee obeyed wordlessly and the two sat side by side, staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry Schemee." His Uncle started. His voice was gravelly and thick with emotion. He seemed to choke on his words momentarily while Schemee listened.

Finally he looked up at the sky and seemed to collect his words, breathing in deeply. "It's my… Your grandmother." He blinked rapidly, and willed himself to speak again. "Your grandmother passed away. She had a stroke." He choked on the last word slightly but composed himself with another deep breath.

Schemee sat wordlessly and gave his backpack, which had been placed at his feet, a gentle kick. Shock lead, followed by disbelief because this just had to be a joke, but, when no punchline came, sorrow followed and over took the other two emotions. He blinked back heavy tears.

"I'm sorry." Schemer said again.

Schemee nodded, swiping tears from his eyes. "I know." He was surprised by how raspy his voice suddenly sounded and the two sat in silence, side-by-side, losing track of time.

Finally, Schemer rose slowly and stretched out the ache that had settled into his bones, muscles, and soul, and clapped Schemee gently on the shoulder with a squeeze and made his way inside. Schemee remained outside, feeling that his Uncle wanted space, and he became lost in his own thoughts.

Schemee never forgot the car ride to his Uncle's house, who was then still living with his own mother, when Schemee's mother died.

It was easily the worst day of his life, and he didn't think that a whole lot could top it. And he hoped nothing ever would top it.

He didn't remember much of the small details, like where they stopped to grab dinner, or how long the drive took. However, he would always remember how he felt. The grief that made him cry so hard that he ended making himself sick, the way it physically hurt to think of his mother, the constant feeling of doom and the deadening feeling that nothing would ever be the same or okay ever again.

He was right, nothing ever was the same ever again. But he was also wrong, because things became okay once more.

It was all thanks to the man who picked him up at Schemee and his mom's old apartment. When all he had for company were the faceless and nameless cops, who, admittedly, tried their best to comfort him. But they couldn't compare to his Uncle, whose face when he entered his nephew's room provided the only source of light in a devastated young boy's day. Schemee remembered how his Uncle pulled the car over to let him cry on his shoulder, how he didn't flinch when his nephew was sick on his car's floor mats from sobbing so hard, how he stopped to buy dinner for his nephew even though Schemee had no desire to eat, and when the dinner went untouched picked up ice cream to try and at least offer another choice so that Schemee didn't starve.

He did all that, and all the clean up, and shouldered the entire child rearing responsibilities from there on out without being asked. He helped Schemee pick up the pieces as best that he could without any fuss. And Schemee honestly knew that he had attained a better life than the one he had been originally given. Schemer was just as much a parent to him as his mom was, and they both tried their absolute best without complaint. For that, Schemee was eternally grateful.

And yet, Schemee realized something now that he hadn't when his mom died. His Uncle had lost a sister, someone whom he was close to, and never burdened Schemee with his own grief. He kept it personal, or presumably shared it with someone else, but still took all responsibility for Schemee's grief and assuaged it.

Now, his Uncle had lost his own mother, and Schemee had clearly noticed that he again was sparing Schemee from seeing his grief. Perhaps it was just shock for now, but Schemee didn't want him to feel alone. He remembered the words that his Uncle told him when they had finally arrived home that fateful night, when his Uncle was holding him tightly on the couch and trying to soothe his incessant sobbing.

"You can cry all you need to." He spoke gently, in that same gravelly, emotional voice that he carried today. "You have every right to and I won't let you go until you need space or you've fallen asleep. I love you Schemee, and I'm going to take care of you. You will be okay, I promise you."

 _"Uncle Schemer is hiding from the grief of his mother's death"_ , Schemee thought to himself, _"and I'm not sure yet if he's hiding it from himself, or to protect me. Either way, I will help him."_

* * *

The next day, Stacy bustled around the station a little slower than usual. She was upset for her friend and his mother's unfortunate death. She made her way over to the arcade, wondering if she should take over some of his duties to help him out for the time being.

The door opened and closed and she continued to stare at the arcade machines a moment longer before spinning around. Turning quickly on her heel she gently collided with Schemer who was walking up to his arcade.

"Schemer!" She exclaimed in shock and pulled him tightly into a hug. He closed his eyes and let himself go slack in her embrace.

"Hey Stacy." He whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Schemer." She spoke gently, tears starting to well in her eyes.

He tensed up slightly against her and gingerly broke the embrace. She got a good look at him and found that sorrow stained every shadow and crease of his face.

"Thank you. It was… sudden." He admitted with a shrug and a sigh, while looking away to stare at the ground and escape her pity-filled expression.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I want you to know that we're here for you." She held his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He gave her a small, sad, smile. "No, I'll be fine. I'm just coming in to do some work now."

She slowly let go of his hand, looking slightly puzzled. "Work? Schemer we can do whatever needs to be done, don't worry about us here."

He walked up to the jukebox and ran his hand along the top of it lightly. "I think I'd like to do some work around here to be honest. I'm fine, Stacy." He looked up at her with a lost look in his brown eyes. "But thanks for your offer."

She gave a weak smile as an understanding response. She was fortunate to not have gone through what he was going through, and knew he would cope in his own time.

Still, she was going to ensure that she would support her friend if or when he needed her.

* * *

Schemee was alone at home, mind racing to the point where he couldn't keep himself occupied long enough to be distracted. He didn't handle death well it would seem, because no matter what he did he was reminded of his own mother's death. Nothing he had done would stop the awful memory.

It started after his Uncle woke him up earlier that morning to let him know that he was going to work. Schemee was at first bewildered, as he had just woken up from a very uneasy sleep and wasn't fully registering what was going on. As understanding set in he was still too stunned to do anything but nod in agreement. Schemer kindly told him that he would be available if Schemee needed anything before heading out. He had a few arrangements to work out still and would be out and about at work and around town, but wouldn't be far.

Now, after being able to process what was going on, he had new reservations about how well his Uncle was coping. It was starting to become obvious that he was hiding his grief. However, Schemee's own anxieties were becoming unbearable by staying home alone. He could call his Uncle, but felt bad putting the extra strain of taking care of someone else onto the already difficult issue of planning a funeral. Still, staying at home wasn't helping him at all. Maybe Schemer was onto something with working today, and maybe it was enough distraction to keep his mind off of everything.

He started collecting his schoolwork and putting it in his bag. He might have a few days off for bereavement but he still did have some things to work on. He decided to head to the station and at least be amongst normalcy, and hopefully run into his Uncle eventually.

* * *

Schemer was not in the station when Schemee arrived, however Stacy was. She moved carefully towards him with concern on her face and stopped short of embracing him, unsure of what level of affection he was comfortable with.

"Are you alright Schemee?" She asked warmly.

He nodded slowly. "I guess so." He said with a shrug.

She did embrace him, now. He was the more closed off one between himself and his Uncle, and appreciated her holding back from surprising him with affection right off the bat. Still, and maybe it came from losing his mother at an early age, he always felt like he had been missing something in terms of motherly affection. It helped ease his current anxiety at the very least.

"Is my Uncle here?" He asked in a low voice.

She looked at him with compassion shining on her face. "No, he's been in and out today. He's had a few arrangements to make. He'll be back though. Why don't you hang out here and wait?"

He took her up on her offer and sat on the arcade bench, trying and failing to concentrate on his work. He hadn't realized how little he had done until his Uncle returned.

"Schemee? Are you alright?" Schemer immediately replaced the sad expression on his face with one of concern. Schemee was annoyed at his Uncle's lack of self-reflection, but realized that he may have been a genuine cause of concern. He hadn't realized that he had been sitting there, hands shaking, just staring across the station with a broken expression on his face, until the worry worn across his Uncle's face snapped him out of his reverie.

He almost responded that he was fine for the second time that day, but the answer came out more like a strained croak as he realized to whom he was talking to, and the lie would have fallen short anyways.

Schemer gently grabbed his upper arm and pulled him to his feet before walking him over to the more private corner of the arcade. Once they were more discrete to any stray passengers, Schemer dropped his voice to prevent accidental eavesdropping.

"I'm sorry that I left you alone. I didn't think about how anxious this must make you feel." His eyes seemed to pierce Schemee's defenses with their understanding. "I really wanted to get everything done as fast as possible, it will all be alright soon. I promise." He placed his hands on either side of Schemee's face in a fatherly manner.

Schemee was still frozen in shock and a mixture of the anxiety from earlier. How much had he misread his Uncle's ability to handle this situation? He was handling it arguably the best out of everyone. On top of taking care of arrangements, going to work, and ensuring that Schemee was at least staying afloat amongst it all. Perhaps because they all expected him to be lost without his 'mommy', he had pulled off the largest and unintentional scheme of all. Between moving out of his mother's house, adopting his nephew, and eventually moving away from the man-child like attitude he was jokingly known for, he had somewhere along the line became more independent than anyone gave him credit for.

"Schemee?" He prodded gently, dropping his hands once again.

"Yeah… Yeah, I just couldn't stay home alone earlier. It was suffocating." Schemee confessed, his heart feeling lighter for doing so.

Schemer nodded in agreement. "I know. Are you sticking around here for much longer?"

"For awhile, I think I might be able to head back soon." Schemee realized that his anxiety was mostly gone after their talk and his revelation on his Uncle's coping ability.

He stuck around awhile longer, managing to get some schoolwork done while his Uncle bustled around most of the day. Scant stopping for a break, he handled the townspeople's consolations smoothly as they stopped in to give their condolences. Schemee looked on, impressed. However he was getting tired and found himself longing for the comfort of home. He bid his Uncle goodbye and told him that he might go see his friends before heading home.

"I'll see you once I'm done here." Schemer assured him.

"Okay, I'll see you then." Schemee didn't immediately leave like he planned however, he felt like there was still something left unsaid.

Schemer picked up on the pause. "Is there anything wrong?"

"No… I just wanted to say… Nevermind." Schemee started but stopped quickly.

Schemer didn't say anything, and he looked almost fearful as if he had done something wrong. Or given anything away. Schemee saw it immediately. The façade was there, but slipping ever so slightly. He could see it in the dark smudges that circled under Schemer's eyes, the slightly bloodshot eyes, and the minor hunch in the posture.

Schemee strengthened his resolve. "Uncle Schemer. Are you alright?" He asked with a deep breath.

Schemer blinked rapidly, almost having trouble processing the question. "I, mean, yes?" He stumbled on his words. "Yes, I'm alright." He found them, but a bit too quickly.

Schemee didn't want to push him too hard. "I just want you to know, if you need help, I know what you're going through. You don't have to pretend if you're not." He flushed with embarrassment, worrying that he might just be putting his Uncle on the spot. But then again, maybe the offer would help his Uncle to heal.

However, again, Schemer surprised him by slipping the neutral mask back into place. "Thanks Schemee, I'll see you at home." Before turning back to his work.

 _"That was it"_ , Schemee thought, _"for now at least"_. It was out there, now it was up to Schemer if he wanted to accept the help.

* * *

Schemer was exhausted, but kept pushing himself to make it until closing time. He had barely slept the night before, lying awake in painful shock had prevented him from wanting to slow down and think too hard about current events. Today unfortunately, customer traffic had slowed considerably in the last hour and he had powered through most of the extra work he had been putting off in a desperate bid to keep busy. Stacy stepped out for a moment and he found himself alone. In the silence, and with an absence of work to do, it was harder to ignore the pain that he was experiencing.

He exhaled heavily and with a groan let his back slide down the wall until he reached the floor. His machine was giving up and giving way to the human emotions he had temporarily put on hold.

He heard Stacy enter once more and he dragged himself up, ignoring the physical ache that seemed to settle into his bones. He hadn't expected it to hurt so damn much, in all ways. His body was giving away the way he truly felt despite his emotional repression. He didn't think he'd make it here much longer though, it was harder to keep his mind occupied. Bidding Stacy goodnight, he made his way to his car slightly earlier than he intended and headed for home.

* * *

Schemee came home to find his Uncle's car back in the driveway, home earlier than he expected. He entered the quiet house and wondered if he maybe went out for a walk. With a shrug he headed upstairs to his room.

He passed his Uncle's den, and noticed the door was slightly ajar. He moved slowly and quietly pushed the door open a crack wider. He saw his Uncle sitting on the couch, back straight and facing away from him. The lights were on but he didn't appear to be doing anything, only sitting.

Schemee began closing it back to where it was and was about to continue to his room when a voice stopped him.

"Schemee."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, and opened the door again, this time stepping inside.

"Uncle Schemer?" He asked. His Uncle still remained sitting and facing away. He moved closer to the couch and saw his Uncle quickly swipe at his cheeks with the inside of his wrists. Heart softening, Schemee took a seat and waited in silence until his Uncle collected himself. Schemer's breathing was hitched, and Schemee looked at him carefully. His eyes looked red and puffy. His cheeks were blotchy. His lips were pursed tightly as he breathed heavily through his nose.

"Does it… Does it ever stop?" He finally asked. His voice choking as he tried to put his brave face back on.

Schemee sighed softly and looked down. He slid closer on the couch. "No. It doesn't ever go away."

Schemer nodded and looked away.

"But it does get easier. It doesn't go away fully, but you stop thinking about it after awhile. Eventually it becomes something of an afterthought that you occasionally have and feel guilty about losing, but you have to let it go or else the pain will kill you." He confessed.

His Uncle turned to look at him again, sniffing slightly.

"I know it hurts now, but don't try and hide it away. It will suffocate you and make it worse. I won't think less of you for it." Schemee confided gently. He remembered the words from long ago. "You will be okay, I promise."

Schemer hung his head and stifled a few sobs into the back of one hand as he bit down on a knuckle. Without missing a beat, Schemee pulled him in closer over his chest and wrapped his arms around him. His Uncle allowed Schemee to essentially cradle his upper body, and he couldn't hide his vulnerability anymore. His shoulders shook as he was wracked with heavy sobs. Still Schemee never let go until as long as he was needed.


End file.
